


it's hard, and nobody understands

by 10redplums



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cross-Generational Friendship, Gen, Magic, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10redplums/pseuds/10redplums
Kudos: 1
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	it's hard, and nobody understands

They’re practicing paring her spellcasting down, today. How sloppy her handwriting can get before the magic just refuses to work.

“Lola thinks what we do is unnatural,” Margaret says. Miss Hazel sits across her, gently nudging her hands when she pauses writing to gesture emphasis. “That miracles are God’s realm and witchcraft is the devil’s work.” 

“And what do you think?” Miss Hazel says. She raises an eyebrow as Margaret, in a fit of boredom, writes  _ BLAZE. _ The fire is contained in a cube one foot long, wide, and tall, and anyway is promptly smothered, as dictated by the tag Miss Hazel had reminded her to make at the start and is sending a gentle current through. Margaret shrugs.

“I think there’s a lot of stuff I am that Jehovah’s Witnesses wouldn’t like if they knew,” Margaret says, and Miss Hazel huffs a soft laugh. “What’s one more?” Miss Hazel hums thoughtfully. She pats Margaret’s hand once.

“You, and me, and…” Miss Hazel hums a little more. 

“I mean, I don’t  _ think _ I’m consorting with the devil?” Margaret says, laughing a little.  _ Burn as bright as a candle for five minutes _ is reduced to a scribble she can still recognize the words of, and her magic accedes to her request. “You know, Mimi got so mad at lunch last Sunday.” She laughs a little more at the memory, and shakes her head. “There’s some more inflammatory stuff on facebook, I think.”

“I haven’t seen.” Miss Hazel doesn’t use facebook, as she’s mentioned before. 

“Mmm. I haven’t either. But Lola mentioned it at lunch,” she says. “Lolo has opinions too. But Mimi demanded to know what that meant, and how people were supposed to know it was the devil anyway, and why the devil gave power to so many people and in such varied ways.” The sentence is reduced to a collection of angled strokes, at which point the paper refuses to even warm. Miss Hazel hums and makes a note.

“And what did your grandparents say?”

“I mean it eventually came back to  _ ah, basta, _ which. Was not the worst part, but definitely didn’t help,” Margaret says, putting the pen down and stretching her hands. “She’s going to one of the more liberal colleges in Luzon; she might get better answers there. And they’re big on nicknames there, so that will be good for her.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m kind of worried Lola or, like, one of our aunts will see her in a pride rally picture.” She laughs a little. “Well, who knows. She’ll probably work too hard to go. She’s got a scholarship, you know? Our parents are very proud of her.” Miss Hazel looks at her, and Margaret turns back to her work.

“How is  _ her _ magic going?”

Margaret looks up at her again and blinks. Mimi had chosen to study from the internet and experimentation; both of them benefited from structured lessons but only one strictly needed them to make any amount of speedy substantial progress.

“It’s going pretty good,” Margaret says. “Kinda sucked for her at first that she had to draw, but she’s working through different media and she’s having a lot of fun.”

“You can show me pictures later,” Miss Hazel says, curbing Margaret’s enthusiasm. Margaret, her phone already halfway out, laughs sheepishly and puts it back.

“I’m honestly kind of glad she’s hard-headed enough that it just makes her angry,” Margaret says. She repeats the scribble carefully, until her brain starts to recognize it as words and the magic clicks into place bit by bit. “I don’t want to think- like, what if this ate at her, you know?”

“Hmm.” Margaret keeps trying; on average it takes about ten tries for a scribble to be recognized as a word. The sentence forms, slowly. 

“Do you think it eats at her?” Margaret looks up; Miss Hazel looks at her and considers. 

“I think… room to choose who she eats with on Sundays, and what rhetoric to have to hear as she does, will be good for her,” Miss Hazel says, eventually. Margaret nods. The flame, finally, again lasts for five minutes before fizzling. She goes back to finding how sloppy she can make the text. “What about you?” She allows Margaret to look up, this time, to blink at Miss Hazel as she considers, for a full ten seconds before waving her back to her work.

“I mean I’m not the- nobody asks  _ me _ if I’m already dating anyone,” Margaret says. “I don’t- I don’t  _ mind _ being a daughter. I think. And I can’t really do anything about them thinking I’m, like, straight.” The tag bursts into flames and Margaret cringes and grins sheepishly. Miss Hazel says nothing, and passes her some more paper. “And I only eat lunch there on Sundays. Mom knows? I think Mom knows everything and she’s pretty cool with what I know she knows, and that’s what’s important. I think I’m okay.”

Miss Hazel nods, and calls a halt to practice. She hands Margaret a sports drink. 

“Mimi’s really got it worse, I think,” Margaret says. “She has to live with them and hears more about how stuff is unnatural or against what God wants or something. I go there on Sundays and, what, not write anything down and flex? Easy-peasy.

“Honestly,” Margaret says, between sips, “I know witnesses-slash-witnessing or something wouldn’t approve of me being a-girl-I-guess or bi or ace or magic. I’ve accepted it? What can you do, you know?” Miss Hazel nods and takes the bottle from her when she’s done, and puts it aside. 

“I think that’s enough experimentation for today,” Miss Hazel says. “Do you still have any juice in you? Do you want to blow some things up?”

“Boy, would I!”


End file.
